


Day into night

by thelittlespook



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, Mattex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:03:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2483915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlespook/pseuds/thelittlespook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd always thought that being a journalist would be a dream come true. That by now, he'd have been working for Rolling Stone and the like.</p>
<p>He'd never even considered that he would be sitting in a cafe in Soho waiting on some author to write a 'Women's Interest' column, and on his day off no less. And if that's not bad enough, he's been here waiting for almost 40 minutes. The woman he is meeting is 35 minutes late and he is on a deadline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day into night

He'd always thought that being a journalist would be a dream come true. That by now, he'd have been working for Rolling Stone and the like.

He'd never even considered that he would be sitting in a cafe in Soho waiting on some author to write a 'Women's Interest' column, and on his day off no less. And if that's not bad enough, he's been here waiting for almost 40 minutes. The woman he is meeting is 35 minutes late and he is on a deadline.

He taps his pencil anxiously against the notebook which is laying open on the table, almost ready to call it quits. "I'll just have to tell the editor that she was a no-show. It's out of my control now," he mumbles to himself.

As if on cue, a woman in black rushes into the cafe. Her red stilettos click loudly against the polished cement floor as she approaches. She stops by his table and drops her large designer handbag and several bags from boutique stores onto the floor beside the table. "Sorry I'm running late," She apologises hastily.

The man gapes at her with a confused expression. He catches the fleeting look of panic on her face as he makes eye contact and smiles. "Is there a problem?"

The woman looks him up and down in appraisal. "You don't look much like a 'Norah' is all."

He takes a few seconds to process her statement. "Oh! Oh! No - I'm Matt! Matt Smith," he chuckles. I'm Norah's replacement."

The woman removes her large sunglasses and smiles, politely offering her hand to shake in introduction. "I'm Al-," she pauses, her eyes wide. "Blanche... Blanche D'Amore," she amends.

After a few seconds gaping at the vision in front of him, he realises that 'Blanche' is still poised over her seat and gasps. "Oh, by all means sit, please," he blurts. "I think I left my brain in the cab this morning, sorry -" he trails off with a soft laugh and she smiles.

_'So young. Probably too young to be doing this particular piece. It'll be fun watching him squirm though.'_

There is an awkward pause where they both sip at water and stare at various objects in the cafe surrounding them.

_'He probably hasn't been doing this too long.'_

She clears her throat. "Out of curiosity, do you know what this interview is regarding?" Matt shakes his head. "I wasn't even told about the piece before I arrived. I live just up the road so it was easier for them to send the intern than have someone else come down," he shrugs. "Not that I mind though. I get to flex my writing muscles and have coffee with a beautiful woman all in one morning."

Blanche shakes her head and long waves of caramel and honey fall about her face, framing captivating green eyes. "Cheeky," she scolds playfully, waving a finger at him.

The waitress soon joins them and they order their respective beverages, passing time while they wait by chatting about poetry.

"We should probably start this interview at some point, eh?" Blanche hums her response into her teacup. "So, tell me about yourself," Matt asks, blowing into his tea. The steam rises around his face, fogging the lenses of his glasses. She giggles quietly into her latte as she waits for him to wipe them clean and then he begins again.

"So Blanche, tell me about yourself," he repeats giving a determined smile. "What is this book about? Why do you think it will appeal to our readers?"

She pauses in thought. "Shall I speak frankly?" Matt nods. "Well, I'm pushing 50 but I do look quite good for my age, if I do say so myself." She bobs her head from side to side with a confident smile.

"No!" Matt scoffs. "I'd have guessed 38 at most! Dermatologists must hate you!"

She cackles loudly, leaning more to one side than the other, covering her mouth as she laughs.

_'What on earth does the Herald want with an almost middle-aged woman? Obviously, this book of hers must really be something.'_

His thoughts are interrupted by her continued speaking and his attention snaps back to his subject. "Anyway," she says as her laughter trails off. "I enjoy poetry, music, shopping-" she indicates to the bags beside her and he chuckles, writing out her short bio- "... Oh, and I rather enjoy sex."

Matt drops his pencil, choking out a loud gasp. "I'm sorry you what?" His eyes are as wide as saucers and he looks at her, petrified. Blanche considers him silently.

"Sex. I like it," she reiterates, shrugging. Her tone is almost completely blasé and it takes him by as much surprise hearing it the second time as it had the first. His mouth hangs open.

"Now, now, it's only sex," she laughs incredulously. "It's nothing to be ashamed of!" Matt swallows and then averts his eyes, looking down to his notepad in a fluster and quickly scrawling her answers below the pre-written questions and then returns his gaze to Blanche.

She scrutinizes his face long and hard, an ostentatious smirk playing on her lips. "Are you afraid of sex, Mr Smith?"

_'Oh, so it's Mr Smith now?'_

"No," he snaps. "It's just not something I'm used to chatting candidly about with a perfect stranger!"

"You think I'm perfect? How flattering -" she laughs again.

Matt blushes. "That's not what I - not that you're not -" he fumbles.

Blanche chuckles throatily. "Let's get back to the interview, shall we?" Matt nods quickly. "I should preface by saying that I've had a natural curiosity about sex since I was much younger but I think what really piqued my interest in my current line of work -" she pauses, sighing quietly. "- was divorcing my ex husband. He wasn't exactly the warmest person but he was a fantastic lover and he taught me a thing or two, I'll tell you -"

Matt looks up with a look of certainty. "So you're a sex therapist, then?" She snorts out a giggle in response.

He gapes at her, his current emotion something between befuddlement and irritation, as she takes a casual sip of her latte before locking eyes with him once more, smirking.

"I'm an escort."

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a tumblr prompt but I know that had I left it as a one-shot, I would have received several outraged comments about its length and therefore I'll be kind. Please enjoy!


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